


The Farmer's Temple

by Dreamsoft



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU where they aren't related, Gen, No Ship, except they're not brothers, inspired off symphysins' deity au, just some nice brotherly content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 02:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17778974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamsoft/pseuds/Dreamsoft
Summary: Also published on Wattpad!So Papyrus and farming is the best crossover everAlso Sans has powers again for no goddamn reason





	The Farmer's Temple

**Author's Note:**

> Something I must state: this ficlet wasn't made with the intentions of shipping two cannon brothers together, but i guess if you do want to see them in a romantic light then there's not much i can do to stop you.

Papyrus was sitting at his bedside table with his lamp dimly glowing beside him, working on some blueprints for a better crop layout, when he heard something from outside.

It sounded peculiarly like the sound of someone walking on metal.  
The loud, annoying clangy sound.  
Whatever -or whoever- it was, he couldn't work at all like this!

Stretching, the solitary farmer reached for his bedroom handle, turning it and stepping into the slightly-claustrophobic living room.  
He opened his front door, peering out into the darkness.  
_HM_?

As he looked around, he noticed a single owl perched atop a small construct he had built the other day.  
"WH- SHOO! SHOO" He waved the winged animal away.

As Papyrus turned back, he glanced at the cold stone before him.  
A Temple.  
It wasn't as fancy as the ones they had in town, and it was only about two heads taller than himself, and the walls barely reached past his two outstretched hands.  
It was really more of a shrine or an altar.  
But, as humble as it was, it was a temple no less.

He had built it out of curiosity, to see if some willing god or goddess would visit the temple, maybe bring some good luck or something.  
Well, he had also built it out of some granite, some limestone, and a small amount of other random pebbles he couldn't identify.  
But that's not what he meant.

"COME ON NOW, PAPYRUS. I HAVEN'T GOT ANY TIME FOR SUCH WORDPLAY."

Papyrus shook his head, turning to face the pink-orange hue bleeding into the sky and hearing a faint rooster cry out its song from another nearby farm.

"WELL, THE DAY HAS ALMOST BEGUN, MIGHT AS WELL GET TO WORK."

Papyrus' farm wasn't in the best situation, having lost a whole field's (Not that he had very many in the first place) worths of crops from things like storms, pests and the pesky neighbours down the road, as well as his favourite -and only- cow Ravioli catching some sort of animal-flu.  
Nevertheless, he pushed forwards, hopeful as ever.

First thing in the morning, he refilled the water troughs and the feeding trays, as well as checking if any of his three hens (Pluck, Cluck and Chuck, respectively) had laid any eggs.  
It was easier in the morning when the feisty animals were still asleep.  
Ravioli's flu wasn't helping her with any of such rest, so waking up early was a habit for her now.  
He would buy some medicine for her, but with the amount of income he had, it wouldn't be possible without some major debt.  
So for now, he could only feed her, give her affectionate pets, and try his very hardest at some healing magic.

As he exited the barn, the sun had officially risen, coming to a rest just above the horizon.

"PERFECT TIMING." He noted to himself.

The second part of his labour was to water all of the crops he had planted the previous season.  
Regular farmers would use sprinklers or even own a tractor to make the job easier, but all he had was himself and his trusty watering can.  
Some of the plants he liked growing were grain, tomatoes, and a multitude of herbs.  
Potatoes were also something he caught interest in.

He was also saving up to see if he could afford some fruit tree saplings by the end of the year, maybe to grow some cherries, some apples, perhaps even oranges!

His watering can was emptying swiftly, so he took another trip to the well, sharing the last few droplets between the crops along the way.  
"Thank goodness the water doesn't cost much around here," Papyrus noted to himself as he filled up the fourth watering-can load worth's of water.

This is what he did every morning, every day.  
It didn't irritate him as much as it used to.  
Papyrus remembered when he started his farming career, so devastated when he realised that the sun was already past the middle of the sky as he finished watering his crops and clearing out the farm.

Now he took pride in it.  
"I'M SO DEDICATED TO MY FARM THAT I SPEND, AT THE VERY LEAST, HALF OF THE DAY TENDING TO IT." He boasted to himself.

That wasn't the only reason he enjoyed this chore.  
It was a rigid, methodical action that happened every day.  
He felt right, having structure in his life.  
Before, when he used to wake up not knowing what to do, he was sure he was wasting time just sitting upright in his bed when he could be doing work!

This routine added sense and logic to his day, and he bet that he could do it asleep!  
Not that he would.  
Pshh, sleep? Who's that? Sounds like a boring guy.

Either way, it did help him gather his senses when he felt a little off.  
He stands up straight, chest puffed out and facing the mass of crops and soil.  
The deep earthen scent was a delight and satisfaction after many months of hard work.

At least a quarter of it would be lost to crows.  
An eighth more to thunder and lightning.  
And another bunch to lack of nutrition, sunlight or some other thing.  
Oh, and probably some more from bugs.  
A lot more from bugs.

So that leaves under half of the remaining crop to be of value.

"HEY, THAT'S BETTER THAN IT WAS LAST TIME."

Papyrus remembers the stack of plans and drafts still on his table.  
He'd better get working on it so that it's ready by next harvest.

He quickly passes by the fields and the farmhouse, double-checking to see if there was anything he forgot to do.  
Nothing. Good.  
He hums in satisfaction and makes his way back to his small shack tucked away into the furthest corner of the land.

What great exercise!  
His legs have grown strong and hardy thanks to the vigorous amount of walking he has to do just to get to the fencing on the other side.

Before opening the unappealing wooden door, he glances at the temple.  
Nothing. Not so good.  
But either way, he was hoping for too much.  
What god or goddess would even consider a temple so small only one person could fit in it?

The door closes.  
Papyrus takes a few steps towards the mass of stone and places a gloved hand on the archway.  
Deity or no deity, it still looks rather pretty. He had put a lot of effort into it.  
Perhaps he should leave an offering on the palm-sized altar?

He roots around in his pockets for something to use.  
Dirt, some balls of lint, a few coins and-  
Two healthy-looking, albeit small, chicken eggs.

He was going to cook them for dinner, but he could go without for one day. He was a strong skeleton after all!  
Backtracking to the farmhouse where the hens and Ravioli lived, a fistful of straw is gathered and provides a comfortable bedding for the twin eggs sitting on the altar.  
Hopefully it is enough.

~

 _"eggs?"_  
 _"two of them, it seems. looks yummy, i haven't had eggs in centuries."_  
The voice sighs, and his legs uncross from their floating position.  
 _"i wonder if i can have them. surely he wouldn't mind, he did place them there after all."_  
A hand draped in a sheer, pastel blue fabric reaches out towards the offering.

The hand flinches back.  
 _"no. he'd think that someone answered him. a real deity."_  
He recalls the glimpses of the farmer he had seen. A golden-hearted, genuine farmer who simply doesn't have the best of luck. He deserves better. Better than whatever this deity can do.

_Perhaps... Perhaps he would just leave a sign. A little bit of hope for the farmer, to know he had been heard.  
He leaves the temple, landing both bare feet on the ground and sneaking to the farmhouse._

A cow, a sick one too.  
He... Sans. Sans could help her.  
Sure, he's a little rusty, but he knew that he could still remove her pain at least.

 _"hello,"_ He whispers to the cow, _"i can make you feel better. would you like that?"_  
Sans takes a breath in through his mouth.

A skeletal hand pets her head a few times, aquamarine-hued magic rippling throughout her from wherever the fingertips touched.  
He stands on the edges of his toes and gives her a peck on the top of her head.

Once the magic coursing through the cow dissipated, he took a few wobbly steps back.  
 _"phew, haven't healed like that for a while. didn't know i was that unpractised."_  
The bottom ridges of his eyesockets appear dark and as he makes his way out of the barn he stumbles many times.  
 _"now you are without illness. now you are without suffering."_ He chants to her as he softly shuts the door behind him.  
He needs some well-deserved rest.

The temple seems like a comfortable enough place to sleep.

~

Papyrus had drawn a blank at the blueprints and decides to take a walk for inspiration.  
Outside the window, the moon begins to set, turning the sky a faint orange.

He closes the door behind him before hearing a hearty "Moo" from the barnhouse.  
Ravioli!

He breaks into a hasted dash for the barn door.  
There she is.

Papyrus couldn't believe his eyes, she was up and about and looking well!  
"T-THIS IS A MIRACLE," He steps towards her, beaming.  
The cow almost seems to be smiling back at him as he embraces her.

"I'VE BEEN BLESSED, SURELY. I'M SO THANKFULL THAT YOU'RE OKAY!" He cups Ravioli's chin and affectionately scratches it a few times.

"BLESSED..." He mumbles to himself, before his eyesockets widen.  
He sprints to the temple.

His head pokes through the archway, hesitant.  
Both eggs stay nestled in the straw, exactly where they were.  
He droops, disappointed.

Unless...?

He looks around, before entering the temple.  
Then he staggers back, gulping down a gasp.  
Curled around the back of the altar is a small... person?  
How did he get in here?

Could he be a god, come to visit the temple?  
Now's probably not the time to jump to conclusions, perhaps he's just a lost traveller. Or something like that.

A more important question:  
Was he here all night?

Papyrus peered at him.  
He looks really tired, no wonder he is asleep...  
What if he needs shelter?

The anonymous person gets hoisted up onto Papyrus' shoulders, brought to his bedroom, and tucked underneath the thin covers.

While waiting for him to wake up, he goes to boil some water and, after some noticeable hesitation, grabs the two eggs from the temple and boils them as well.

Once everything's ready, a small ceramic cup of hot water and ceramic bowl with some boiled eggs are placed on the bedside table.  
He begins cleaning the room of dust and picking up the balled up pieces of paper, before he opens the bedroom door.  
Glancing back at the snoozing stranger tucked into his bed, he hopes that they rest better and wake up once he comes back.

Same daily routine, checking for eggs, feeding the animals, watering the plants.  
One day closer to harvest. Hopefully his funds stretch until then.  
Ravioli is feeling much better, but won't be producing any milk for three, maybe four days.

The sun, as Papyrus checks, is at its standard point right in the center of the sky.

He inhales the scent of the soil, breathes out, and strides back towards the house, ready to check on the stranger.

The temple lays, once again, empty. He didn't have anything this time, so he hopes that whatever god or goddess who healed Ravioli would be satiated for now.

He also hopes that they weren't angry for him taking the eggs back.

He opens the door to his bedroom, peering in to see the stranger still asleep.  
Wow! He must be really tired. Should he be concerned? Or maybe this amount of sleep was normal for him?

He calculated the hours in his head. The stranger was asleep before sunrise, maybe somewhere during the night. If he somehow got into the temple and fell asleep the moment Papyrus went inside his house, and still slept at midday... That's basically an entire day!

Is the stranger in a coma?

A rustle of bedsheets catches his attention.  
"OH! IS HE GOING TO WAKE UP?" Papyrus hoped that he would. It was about time that he found out who this mysterious stranger is.

The closed eyeridges press closer together for a brief moment, before fluttering open and blinking.  
He seems to still be awakening, yawning a bit and bringing a hand up to rub at his eyesockets.  
Then he stares at the roof for a quiet second.

"i knew this place felt too comfortable." He whispers, whether just to himself or not. He visibly deflates a little, sinking further into the bed.

Phew! The person woke up and isn't too shocked! Maybe they're used to this happening.

"OH, I'M SO GLAD THAT YOU'RE FINALLY AWAKE. YOU'VE BEEN ASLEEP FOR WHAT COULD BE JUST UNDER A DAY!" Papyrus may have said a few decibels too loud.  
If keysmashes were audible, then this stranger just vocalised exactly what it would have sounded like.

"oh. uh. you're here." He comments monotonously.

"I FOUND YOU ASLEEP- MAYBE PASSED OUT? -IN THE TEMPLE JUST OUTSIDE THAT WINDOW THERE." He points to the dusty window, revealing a side view of the tiny building.  
"yeah, that'd make sense." He uses his arms to push himself up and sits with his back against the pillow. He pulls the thin blanket to cover more of himself.

"AH! ALMOST FORGOT TO ASK IF YOU'RE FEELING OKAY? NEED ANY WATER? FOOD?" He doesn't exactly have the most social abilities.  
"a little more quietness would do perfectly."  
Papyrus, feeling mildly offended, tunes his voice down a bit.  
"How About... Now?"  
"good."

Silence ensuing, the awkwardness doubles.

 

...

 

 _CHECK_  
* SANS - "Without" 1ATK 1DEF  
* God of nothingness, yet somehow a metaphorical deity of nurturing and care  
* 0.98/1HP

Papyrus jumps back.  
"S-So You Are A Deity!" He exclaims, eyeing the other up and down.

Sans shrugs nonchalantly.  
"i wouldn't really call myself that, but sure, i guess."  
"Does That Mean That You Came To The Temple I Built?"  
"nah... maybe i just passed by and saw it. maybe the offering you put there, while measly for some harvest goddess or rain deity, looked like gold and silver to me." Mumbling tangled words, he begins to weave his hands together in the same way he weaves his sentences.

"but either way," He pauses to look Papyrus straight in the eyesockets, "i'm not the one you'd want on a farm. i'm chaotic. y'know, without? i'm more of an assassin if anything. _without_ life, _without_ spirit, all that junk." He speaks in a halted sort of accent when he says "without" and stops his hands from weaving, almost as if he's restraining himself.  
Papyrus gives him a puzzled look.  
"But You're Also "A Deity Of Nurturing And Care", Your Description Even Said So! You Cured Ravioli!" He doesn't understand why this deity would put himself down.  
"and then i sleep for a day. in fact, normally two." The other counters, "i'm " _without_ " energy." He chuckles and shifts his attention back to his oh-so-interesting hands, absentmindedly picking away at the chips on his fingers.

This stranger sure is depressing.  
But Papyrus wasn't going to give in so easily! This guy was the first to respond to his temple-call! It's meant to be.  
"I'll Change Your Mind! Don't Worry, Sans. This'll Be The Best Time You'll Have In Your Life! Uh, Immortal ... Life...?"  
"immortal? most likely not. life? never heard of it."

"but sure. you can try, i'll humour you." His hands drop to lay on the blanket, him fully laying back on the pillow.

How does someone convince a god that he's worth something?

~

"OKAY!" Papyrus' booming voice returns upon exiting the shack, the deity Sans following behind him like a sleepy dwarf wanting it all to be over so he could go back to sleep.  
Sans considers telling the farmer to quieten down again, but reasons with himself that it won't be as loud in the open space.  
no need to bother him if that's what his natural volume is.

"SO I'VE DECIDED THAT I'LL TAKE YOU IN UNDER MY WING AND SHOW YOU THE WARMTH OF A LOVING ENVIRONMENT! YOU'LL GET TO SEE THE FARM PROSPER, PLAY WITH THE ANIMALS AND WHATEVER ELSE YOU WANT TO DO." He turns back and looks at the other's reaction to his proposal.  
"it sounds suspiciously like you're adopting me or something. i'm pretty sure a god-mortal relationship would be more like prayers and burnt sacrifices." His smile crinkles a bit in held-back laughter, "but _hay_ , i said i'd go along with it."

The farmer brings up a gloved hand to pinch his nose-ridge.  
"WHILE YOUR SENSE OF HUMOUR IS LACKING, IT DOESN'T DETER ME ENOUGH TO LET THIS OPPORTUNITY GO."

"anyway, why'd we come out here? the sun is almost gone."  
"WE'RE GONNA GO ON A STROLL AROUND THE LAND AND YOU CAN SEE WHAT IT HAS TO OFFER." He hopes that Sans got some energy from that day-long snooze.  
"a stroll? a marathon maybe." He responds, looking at the fence marking the other edge of the plot which is actually only half a kilometre away.

"DON'T BE SO PESSIMISTIC, ENJOY THE NATURE AROUND YOU!"

With that, Papyrus extends his hand towards the other, giving a second offerring: one to hold it.  
Sans just stares at it, dumbfounded. Is there something in there he wants him to look at?

"uh, cool hand?"  
"..."

_WOW, THESE DEITIES HAVE NO IDEA ABOUT SOCIAL INTERACTION._

"WOULD YOU LIKE TO HOLD IT?" Papyrus asks in a very slow and audible manner.

"why exactly...would i do that?" The deity glances confusedly at the glove facing him, "what's the point of this mortal contact via rendering one of your most valuable and useful bodily limbs temporarily unusable?" Off he goes again with his over-complicated gibber.

"WELL FINE THEN, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO I WON'T PUSH YOU TO." The hand moves away to stay at the farmer's side, "OFF WE GO!"

He breaks into a stride with a vertically-challenged immortal toddling behind him, aiming to venture all the way around the four sides of the land. Quite an odd sight.

If it were to be seen in bird's eye view or on a pleasantly vintage map, Papyrus' homely shack lies on the south-easternmost corner, rather close to the barn which is just a hop, skip, and a breaking of legs north.

About halfway there, walking along the north side of the property, he begins narrating the scenery around him, not unlike a tour guide.

"THIS SIDE OF THE FENCE ON YOUR RIGHT SEPARATES MY FARM FROM THE MOUNTAINOUS FORESTY PLACE OVER THERE. IT'S GOOD FOR FINDING FORAGE, BUT THERE'S A LOT OF BUGS AND SPIDERS AND WILD ANIMALS THERE TOO, SO YOU HAVE TO BE CAREFUL." He crosses his right hand over to point to it.

"sounds cool. very nature-y." Sans squints to look deep between the trees, perhaps trying to find something?

"THERE'S A GIGANTIC CHESTNUT TREE ABOUT TWENTY MINUTES FROM HERE." Papyrus seems as if he's reaching for things to say.

"UH... I BUILT A TREEHOUSE ON IT. MAYBE WE CAN GO VISIT IT SOMETIME!"

"mhm."

The two continued onwards with silence lingering behind them and breathing on their necks.  
Soon enough, the south side of the wooden fence (Riddled with termite holes, but otherwise in peak condition) came into reach.

"ON THIS SIDE, THERE'S A ROAD," He pointed to the gravel and dirt "road", "IF YOU FOLLOW IT THAT WAY, YOU'LL BE AT A TOWN IN HALF A DAY'S TRAVEL. THE OTHER WAY LEADS TO A WATERING HOLE IN AN HOUR, GOES AROUND IT, AND THEN ANOTHER DAY'S TRAVEL WILL GET YOU TO ANOTHER TOWN."

"wow, guess you know your way around the place, huh?" The deity leans on the lower bar of the fence, not being able to do so on the top bar. Glancing into the distance, he spots what could be the watering hole among a row of mountains.

Papyrus begins walking again, turning ninety degrees heading back towards the farmhouse. Looking behind him, he sees the sun has gone down completely, and in front of him the moon starts to rise.

"looks completely different when the world's asleep, doesn't it?" The farmer notices a pale, blue-tinted glow coming from next to him.

The deity, surrounded by a few glittering particles of silver and blue, apparently glows in the dark.  
"tadaa, i'm a nightlight now!"

Sans pretends to yawn, before jokingly admitting he's nocturnal with a wave of his hand.

They walk some more in silence, until the god pipes in again with another thing to say.

"hey, interesting fact: the glow can get stronger depending on the moon phases, because moon magic or something. new moon doesn't even show at all, but full moon almost gives me rainbow sparklies. heh,"

"WOAH!" The shocked farmer can't believe his eyes... sockets...? "CAN ALL DEITIES DO THIS?" He asks.  
"heck yeah. at least, normally they do. i dunno, maybe there's a particular one that doesn't do it. this ain't anything special by any means, but i know mortals don't do this. normally."

The two continue walking.

Out of the corner of Sans' vision he notices some yellow-ish sparklies not coming from him and taps Papyrus' shoulder to alert him.  
"SANS, THOSE ARE FIREFLIES. BUGS THAT JUST SO HAPPEN TO BE BIOLUMINESCENT."  
"oh, so you don't have a weird deity harem. phew."  
"I'D RATHER NOT HAVE ONE, THANKS."

The flock of fireflies drift closer towards Sans. Were they drawn to the blue sparklies?  
One landed on his nose-ridge, surprising him a bit.  
"they don't, like, zap you or anything, right?"  
"NO. NO THEY DON'T." The farmer seems to be quite entertained by the deity's unexpected naiveness. A chuckle escapes him.  
"how _shocking_."  
No more chuckles.

The deity, enchanted by the bugs surrounding him, tried imitating the appearance of them with his own blue wisps.  
"i mean, they look a little accurate, don't they? just er.. _without_ the yellow" A firefly hovers next to one of the imitations for comparison.

As he walks, a chain of fireflies duck in and around his legs, racing around the floaty radiant clothes.

HE'S LIKE A BRIGHT BLUE BEACON.  
"I'M SURPRISED YOU HAVEN'T ATTRACTED ANY MOTHS YET. THEY LOVE THE STUFF. ALL GLOWY AND EVERYTHING." He remembers how his bedside lamp once was smothered in them, with barely any light escaping past the nightshade of wings.

"you're telling me there's different kinds of these things?" A firefly lands on his index finger as he lifts it up.  
"MOTHS DON'T REALLY GLOW, BUT SURE."

The fireflies follow them all the way to the east side of the farm, where the two idly chat about whatever topics come into their heads.  
There isn't much on the remaining part of this side. More crops, one would suppose.

"so are you self-sufficient or something?" Sans pipes up, having started-and-stopped a conversation about different types of grain.  
The variation is a lot, considering how little of each he grows, but not varied enough to sustain himself over time.  
"NO, UNFORTUNATELY. I STILL REGULARLY LEAVE FOR THE TOWN TO GET THINGS LIKE SOAP, SUGAR, OTHER FOOD AND THE LIKE. BUT BECAUSE I GROW SOME OF MY OWN STUFF, THERE'S LESS I HAVE TO BUY."

Finally, the farmer and the deity make their way back around to where the buildings and such are.  
"I WOULD SHOW YOU THE INTERIOR OF THE BARNHOUSE, BUT AT THIS POINT ALL THE ANIMALS WOULD BE ASLEEP AND IT WOULD BE AN INCONVENIENCE TO WAKE THEM UP. SO WE'LL HAVE TO CUT THIS WALK SHORT."

"ughh, thank goodness. i've had enough walking for today." Sans halts in his tracks and immediately sits down on the grass, not caring about getting his clothing muddy.  
The fireflies, partially disturbed by his change in movement, scram out of the way to float around him.

 

"LET'S AT LEAST GO INSIDE THE HOUSE." Papyrus, still standing, nudges the other's head.  
"z z z..." He says out loud, eyesockets wide open.  
"HAHA. VERY FUNNY. LET'S GO." Without a moment's notice, the farmer hoists the deity up, cradled in his arms.  
The deity is mildly disoriented but allows the other to carry him inside.

Once they get inside the door, Papyrus shuts it, sealing off the outside cold.  
Some of the fireflies managed to squeeze through, still swarming around Sans.  
"hey, little thing-ies. you can _buzz_ off now." He addresses the fireflies as if they could understand him.  
For some reason, they do seem to heed his attention, one passing through a crack in the windowsill, others fleeing to who knows where.

The house is a little warmer than the farm because of Papyrus' great insulation and design methods that he constructed himself! (He is still quite proud of it)  
However, it's not really a comfortable temperature.

"YOU CAN GET YOURSELF COMFORTABLE," He gestures to the lone wooden chair in the living room, "I... I'LL BE IN MY ROOM DOING STUFF."

"YOU CAN START A FIRE IN THE FIREPLACE IF YOU WANT, BUT PUT IT OUT BEFORE GOING TO SLEEP."

Waiting for Papyrus to leave the room, he stands idly before making his way to the offered chair.  
He decides not to light a fire, knowing that he'd probably leave it burning as he dozed off.  
Setting your host's house ablaze on the first night is probably not good etiquette.  
So instead he rests in the chair, reflecting on the events of the day.

Before losing his consciousness to the tempting lures of sleep, a final thought runs through his head.

_i could get used to this._

In the room next door, the farmer sits hunched at his desk with a lone lamp barely illuminating his workspace.  
No progress has been made on the crop layouts at all, but instead improvements to the living space and sketches for a second room fill a few smudged pages.

Currently under the work of deft phalanges and a lead pencil: Additions to The Great Treehouse, including a spiraling wooden slide, a comfy nap room with extra fluffy pillows and an expanded balcony for cloud or star gazing.

He thinks about constructing some kind of telescope, then starts messily drawing a design for one.  
Under his breath, he mutters the things that he'd need to make it.

"Some Sort Of Glass For The Lenses... Metal Rings To Secure It... Something To Keep It Standing..."

Papyrus assigns tomorrow as a day to gather the materials he needs.  
Hopefully the deity enjoys long hikes into the wilderness and to town.

Interrupting his telecope-building frenzy is a very, very quiet thought.

Once it comes into his head, he leaves the messy blueprints scattered across his desk, gets up, and subtly creaks the living room door open just a tad.  
On the wooden chair, no longer glowing, is Sans, snoring with one leg dangling off the side of the chair's arm and a hand draped across the fabric-lined back.

The farmer smirks, holding a hand up to his mouth in order to muffle what would have been an amused laugh.  
Upon picking the deity up, he clings to the farmer like a cute little koala bear.

Papyrus, carrying the snoozing Sans, heads into the bedroom and lays him down softly on the bed.  
He pulls the thin covers over, patting them down neatly, and the very, very quiet thought returns.

_I'M REALLY GLAD THAT SANS CAME TO ME._


End file.
